After Dark
by Alien Shadow Girls
Summary: Decades after Aya's death, he encounters a familiar soul in the afterlife. Submitted to a contest for the prompt "Unsavory".


Fic prompt: Unsavory

Title: After dark.

Pairing(s)/Characters: gen, some Aya + Yohji

Rating: PG-13

Summary: An after-life meeting.

Warnings: None. Lack of info on how Side B ends would be most of it.

Author's Notes: Same as above.

Disclaimer: Koyasu Takehito owns 'em. Not me.

* * *

It was twelve ticks till midnight when Aya died.

Aya had never thought that death could be so sudden - that white-hot pain searing across his chest had been the last thing he remembered. Yet, the shift had been so jarring, he was still spinning in his counterattack, scattering drops of blood onto white sand when he realized he was no longer there. Here is, in fact, a mere desert, sky and horizon and sand, and nothing else.

It had all been a mistake because of age. When he was younger, Aya was virtually immortal - he walked out of bomb blasts, dragged himself up from the rough seas, even with broken bones and gunshot wounds. All it took was a younger assassin with better reflexes - another version of him, time slipped and all of a sudden, Aya is dead.

Aya had stood there for a while in disbelief, stance poised to fight back at anything that could come at him. But nothing did. Nothing ever will, he realized afterwards, when he changed his form into something he hadn't been for many years - Ran. It was Aya who died, but Ran, in his boyish, plain shirt, ear tails and jeans, was the one who lied down on the sand staring up into the blank sky. Ran stared, wondering why none of the demons he had been expecting, nor the countless victims looking for vengeance, had shown up to finally take their due.

Perhaps he had already fallen into a hell of sorts. He'd been through it all, violence, grief, rage, and sometimes - happiness, in a life so convoluted and eventful that his final punishment was that one of complete peace and boredom. Aya stared at the sky and waited for anything to happen. Then he stopped waiting and let the stillness seep into him, until he ceased to think. Aya lay still for a long, long time.

* * *

By some sheer coincidence, a sad joke by fate some years later, a man named Ryo Ito died. Twelve ticks till midnight, surrounded by family and friends. But not all of the important ones were there.

* * *

"You could get sunburn like that."

Aya blinked. The voice had not been jarring, but the sudden change in the stillness seemed to awake him.

"Here, I thought you were afraid of sunlight, with that skin and all."

Aya tried to speak, but it was like bending old wood, creaking and cracking from years of misuse, "There's no sun."

"There isn't? Oh silly me, you were so fascinating to watch, I forgot to look up at the sky. " The voice slowed down into a drawl, "I was wonderin', were you really just lying still, or were you moving at a speed so slow it's barely perceptible to the eye, cos that might've been a really entertaining endeavor, you've been at it for so long."

The voice was fascinating, Aya mused to himself, the way it cut through the air like a harmonic sounded on a broken violin. The type that got under his skin, just like -

"Aya~n." Aya's chin jerked up in surprise. A shadow loomed over him, obscuring his view. "Yohji."

Aya sat up and turned to look at the man that had been standing over him. Yohji sauntered over to a rock and sat down, stretching his long legs. Then he looked back at Aya and simply smirked. Aya burst out, "But you forgot! How do you know who I am?"

Yohji seemed surprised at this. "I don't think that should be the first thing you were supposed to ask." Aya frowned.

"No. What was I supposed to ask?"

"Aya, you're dead."

"I knew that! What the hell are you doing here?"

Yohji pursed his lips and leaned on an elbow, "That must mean that I'm dead too."

"That can't be true."

"How so?"

"You're a normal person now. With a wife and possibly kids and you were supposed to grow old and die fat."

"I did, Aya."

Aya stood up, crossed his arms and inspected Yohji. The latter was sitting there looking just like he did at twenty-three, wavy brown hair in a mess, those slim jeans and a shirt that Aya vaguely remembered as the one he had been in the second time they met. With that stupid grin that made your fists itch. "It's too soon."

"No, it's just in time. I learned that an old friend of mine named Aya died twenty years ago."

Aya glared, "I didn't wait for that long."

"Yes, you did."

Aya turned around to stare at the imprint he left on the sand. Yohji sighed, "I suppose time gets a little messy when you're not doing anything. Or feeling anything."

Aya huffed, and shifted his attention to Yohji again.

"You died around 60?"

"It was roughly three times my expected lifetime so, yes."

"It was still too fucking soon."

"It was good. Funny, I didn't remember some of the really important bits until after the fact. You, however, died at 40."

"It was a violent death. Assassins aren't supposed to last long after their reflexes start slowing down. It was long enough." Aya paused to let the implication through.

"I can't imagine you slowing down."

"I'm human too, Yohji."

"You didn't tell me before you went one-on-one with an attack helicopter. That time, I figured you were immortal."

"Now you know. So, we're both dead. How do I know you're not just some figment of my imagination?"

"Seriously?"

"I might have gone insane while waiting for nothing."

Yohji paused to contemplate this. "You haven't noticed the rocks, haven't you?"

Aya whirled around to get a quick look at the surroundings. The sand had been perfectly flat when he first came. Now, the landscape were dotted with rocks, jutting out here and there. And Yohji had been sitting on one for the past few minutes. Aya steeled himself from feeling embarrassed. "Were you the one that did that?"

"I thought the sand was a tad boring, so I did," Yohji kicked at the sand a bit, throwing some over Aya's shoes.

"How creative."

"It'll be really sad if a figment of your imagination was more creative than you."

"Fine."

Yohji got up and brushed his pants for a moment. "Hey, I'm feeling up for a better change of scenery. I think I spotted an oasis over there." He pointed at a distant dot in the horizon." C'mon, let's take a walk."

"If you wanted one, why did you set it so far off?"

"Aya, we have all the time in the world. Besides, you're the one that didn't even bother changing the place."

"I thought that was all there was to it."

Yohji smiled sadly, "Aya, did you lose so much hope in the world, that the only paradise you could expect was this?"

* * *

Forty years ago, it was an undetermined time till midnight - no one had bothered to count the ticks in the clock. Considering the way fate worked, it might have been an unsurprising number.

Kudoh Yohji had sauntered into the flower shop to find a mess of broken pots, an unconscious Ken on the floor. And that other one with red hair. Yohji looked down at pale face with the swelling bruise and remembered the unsavory taste of blood in your mouth. He took the stranger home.

* * *

Twenty years later, it had been Ken watching the clock. The bomb was set to go off at twelve, and before the watch struck the hour, Aya's radio had gone out.

Ken found the body among the debris. A few weeks later he had resigned, wondering if he could have a go at a normal life. A soccer club for kids, maybe. KB had his replacements already lined up. It took another week for Ken to come up with a note to Aya-chan and Omi, despite knowing that they probably already knew.

* * *

Another two decades after that, Mamoru Takatori had been hosting a victory party after securing the nomination. He checked his watch every ten minutes - after twelve, he could slip out and get into the unmarked car behind the manor. Kritiker had given him a message earlier that a certain, unremarkable citizen named Ryo Ito was on his deathbed in their hospital named after Mamoru's father. Despite all the years of spinning political schemes and underhanded tactics, Mamoru had no idea what he would do if he simply walked in on a family comforting the last moments of a loved one. He didn't have a plan at all.

Tapping the expensive wristwatch impatiently, Omi simply wished he could see Yohji-kun one last time.

* * *

"How could I expect anything else?" Aya finally replied, as they trudged through that desert. They had been walking for a good distance, but the oasis was still a dot. "I didn't even think of a paradise."

When they were twenty and had killed to the point of no remorse, it was unthinkable. The silence between them shared the thoughts of the hell they had all expected. Miles and miles of their dead, waiting in line for retribution.

"Maybe... " Yohji finally said, voice cracking a little, "maybe the fact that you did it for someone was enough. Enough not to merit hell, I mean. Or maybe because we don't really believe in hell, just our guilt and conscience or something like that." Then he stopped and gestured at the horizon, "or maybe it's because paradise is what you make of it."

It was Aya's turn to snort. "My paradise is a desert, thank you very much. " He turned to Yohji. "That still doesn't explain why you're here."

Yohji cracked a grin, "You wanted me here, I suppose. That's so sweet of you." Aya scowled at him. "Don't get ahead of yourself. If I really did, this place would've simply invented a version of you."

"Oho~ Maybe you wanted the real me. There's nothing better than the original, of course." Yohji broke into laughter and patted his hip, winking at Aya. The latter suppressed the desire to kick him and, angrily continued walking. Yohji laughed a bit longer, then ran to catch up with him.

"Wait up! Don't get so mad at me." Yohji spread out his hands while walking briskly, matching Aya's pace. "I just haven't had this kind of fun in years." Aya didn't reply.

"Oh come on, knowing you, you haven't had fun for far longer." Yohji sighed.

Aya turned on him, "Stop talking about fun. You got what you wanted. We stayed and kept going with what we had. " Yohji's face softened with regret, but immediately recovered.

"I should say sorry for finding happiness, huh? I'd like to think I wasn't given much of a choice. " Yohji tapped his chin in thought, "but Aya, when I had woken up alone, I wished so many times that at least one of you would come and at least, give me a name." Aya turned away, fists clenching.

"Well, a couple of years later, Ken showed up. He refused to call me by any name, and I gave him the one thing that was left to me. Because my only memories were a couple of names. Asuka, " Yohji held up a finger, then another, " and a promise to someone named Aya."

He continued, "So I fulfilled that one, even though I didn't want to let go of your sword. For the record, I wondered if you had promised me anything, like say, pick me up when I'm well and whole again. But years came by, I never remembered anything more, and one day, all I got was an unmarked envelope saying that 'Aya' died."

'That made me sad, though. I mean, if this 'Aya' was so important to me, and now he's dead, how could I mourn for him? Or her." Aya raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, hey, don't give me that look. It was such a girly name. The sword made me 60% convinced you're a he. But this was what I was thinking of: if only I had a good memory of you, then I'd have something I could properly mourn."

* * *

It was not midnight anymore when Aya had woken up for the first time in Yohji's apartment. Nor by any measure was it twelve clock strokes to an hour. He had opened his eyes to that loud stranger who flirted carelessly and had green, expressive eyes. And had given him a name.

The second time, however, was possibly the right time before midnight. Aya had cautiously peered at the side and saw the many rows of books, the white light, clean sheets on a soft bed made him believe for a moment that he was back home, fifteen years old again and safe. Then an ache in his side; possibly a brawl with Ken or a mission gone wrong - it had been so long ago he had forgotten why. But this is the part he remembered: The sheets had smelled vaguely of Yohji, and while he lay there in silence, the door soon opened and Yohji had brought something warm in a cup. For once he wasn't that annoying, and he spoke softly because it was night. Aya left his room before the sun broke out with a book tucked under an armpit while he nursed a mild sprain in his ankle.

* * *

Aya stared at Yohji for a while. "All that for a name?"

"A name defines things, you know," Yohji shrugged. "And why just you? I know why I remembered Asuka's. " he bared his teeth and hissed softly, "she could be here somewhere, and I'd love to meet her. But that one's hard to chase down, it's been so long. She might have gone somewhere else already or something. The other Asuka, " Yohji smiled, "is still well and alive." He took a deep breath.

"I don't know why I remembered yours and not Ken or Omi's. Though, my wife insists, I'd get a little funny every time I see Mamoru Takatori on TV. Irritable and the like."

"Why so?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe my memory was itching. Maybe because I knew it was the wrong name. Maybe..." Yohji closed his eyes.

"I think I know why you remember mine." Yohji opened his eyes again, inquiringly.

"How so?"

Aya shrugged, "It was my sister's. But you made me take it. We both thought about it more than once, I'm sure."

Yohji bowed slightly, eyelids falling to half-mast, "I'm sorry. It doesn't count much as a happy memory, does it?"

* * *

Yohji's favorite memory with Aya in it had been like this: it was twelve seconds till midnight, but the shop had stayed open. Ken was out. Omi had a test and was studying. The flower shop was open in the name of love - or so Yohji said, because a young woman in a desolate but heartbreakingly hopeful state had agreed to meet her suitor there. Yohji barely remembered her name, but at that time he had befriended her. Aya was at the counter, having managed to stay there for the past three hours because Yohji had pacified him with a book. Said book had been finished a few minutes past eleven, yet Aya had stayed, if only because Yohji was serenely watching the girl, waiting patiently for her lover.

She sat outside, the warm summer night fluttering the blinds. Many of the flowers had been packed to either the cooler or the rooftop, waiting for the morning sun. Yohji leaned back on the counter, trying to hide his exhaustion and the fact that he had run out of things to say. Aya disappeared for a moment. Yohji shook his head, wondering how he should apologize to his teammate - but how could he say no? She was so eager and the poor thing had been fretting as quietly as possible, butterflies in her stomach and everything that Yohji kept on watching her, feeling the nostalgia for a young love. Then Aya came back with some tea, offering one to Yohji and - much to his surprise, stepped out to give one to the girl. Then he came back inside and leaned on the counter as well, nursing his own cup.

Aya whispered to Yohji that she had apologized and promised to give up after midnight. Yohji wondered if the fates would allow a simple fairy tale to come true, so despite having only a few minutes left, he hoped a little as well. So there it was, with the last few clock ticks, the young man arrived - in tears and a sweeping hug and they were gone, Yohji waving a thankful goodbye from behind the glass, while Aya sighed next to him. They stayed there a little longer, quietly counting the stars and drinking warm tea before closing the shop together.

They kept it secret afterwards, because it sounded absurd and no one would believe such a sappy story. Still, the memory made Yohji smile every time, to think of someone happily in love somewhere.

* * *

Aya hung his head, grimacing. "You thought the shop was a place for good memories? We fought in there, we took our missions there, we were attacked so many times that we had to move. We dreamt our nightmares there."

"It was the closest thing we had to a home, Aya."

Aya bared his teeth in irritation, "tch', it was just a cover, and a lame one at that."

Yohji shoved his hands into his pockets, then raised his eyes to meet Aya's gaze. "Do you mean to tell me, Aya, that after all that time, you didn't think of that place as somewhere significant?"

Aya glared at him in full force. "No."

"Then, why did you return there? After the first time Weiss broke up, we all ended up back there, didn't we? It wasn't just that Kritiker had made it into our headquarters! When that shop was destroyed, we took it with us! We brought that flower shop along, all over Japan! We didn't really have to! Look at Shion's unit!" Yohji stepped closer, "They used whatever cover was available, but we stuck to that flower shop! When Omi became Persia and called us back, why did he insist on building a copy of it? You could've said no, Aya!"

* * *

Aya hated many things that Yohji stood for - the sleeping around, the sultry clothes, the lazy carelessness he exuded. And he hated the fact that, even then, Yohji was one of his few anchors to the world. When Aya-chan awoke, they had drifted all over the place, going where their missions told them to, constantly moving to avoid getting targeted. It was dizzying and there were times when Aya wasn't so sure if the team could stay together - that encounter with the American military, where they simulated Weiss' self-destruction, even just for show, had shaken him deep down. It had been a game well played, but when the showdown in the carnival grounds started, Aya wondered if the next time, the real time this could happen, who would end up on his side.

How Aya realized Yohji's importance was this: they had set up a series of explosions, in regulated array from ten before midnight till ten past, to corner an entire syndicate in their building, as well as providing an escape route while the enemy is distracted. Aya did not make a mistake, but they had underestimated the numbers of those who would willingly defend to the death. Aya didn't have time to escape on an injured leg, but Yohji was suddenly there, picking him up in his arms - Yohji was thinner and Aya could feel him strain a little, but Aya wrapped an arm around him and they used the wire to swing out for a last minute escape.

For a few seconds before the main bomb exploded at midnight - Omi had loved to time it that way, Aya buried his face in Yohji's hair, smelling the unsavory ash and tang of gunpowder, blood, sweat and sharp cologne. Yet underneath was the familiar scent of Yohji, which reminded Aya of soft sheets and books, so even as his stomach bottomed out during that long, slow swing downwards, Aya thought of the two of them as an unmoving point, while the universe rushed by and rumbled.

When Aya let go afterwards, he had been unable to shake off the idea that he had thought of Yohji as someone that reminded him of home. Not for quite some time.

* * *

"You had no idea how I felt, when you called me back to Weiss while being against it - then I find our new HQ was another flower shop, even though we never used it that way again." Yohji whispered, this time having stepped so close to Aya that he could observe the flecks in his irises.

Aya broke his gaze and turned to the side, "It's nothing but standard procedure. When Ken and I worked for Kryptonbrand, our base was another flower shop. Kryptonbrand had broken off from Kritiker during the second generation, where they kept a lot of the old operations because it was effective for them."

"Well, tell me, Aya." Yohji stepped back, watching him closely, "Did it comfort you even a little, to have something so familiar?"

Aya refused to look at him in the eye. "Why is it so important to you? That I was in a flower shop while in Britain? I was still working with Ken, if that could make you feel better. I was not alone."

Yohji smiled, "It was good that you were with Ken. But yes, I was wondering if you had been in a flower shop."

* * *

The last time that Yohji and Aya had met, while still alive, conscious and all memory intact, was when they fought each other. It was a bizarre fight, sword singing against wire while they ran and blocked and lashed out. Neither of them knew that the Crashers unit had gotten into the building and were setting up demolition.

The first explosion was enough distraction for Yohji to get away. Aya had pursued him, intent on defeating him and his self destruction. Through the resulting chaos, Aya couldn't help but wonder how exactly they had ended up on either side of a gulf. It had been surreal: Aya had thrown Yohji his sword, though he had a broken leg and a broken arm and possibly more, and yet he was the one who had saved the rest of Weiss, in a way.

It was the Crasher unit who had been watching the time, knowing when to swoop down and rescue them, what the time they saw at that point might not have surprised anyone. Before the clock ticked into the deepest part of night, Yohji promised to return Aya's sword.

"I'll wait for you." Aya promised. Not a second too late.

* * *

"I'm a silly man, Aya. " Yohji continued, while they had resumed walking towards the supposed oasis. "You knew that, yet you wonder why I keep asking about the flower shop. " The two of them had calmed down after a bit of walking, and Yohji spoke in a easy monotone.

"You haven't answered my question."

"Is it so important?"

"We're already dead, Yohji. "

"Well, I suppose, since you don't have your sword around, you can't skewer me and I can't die anymore, can I?"

It was Aya's turn to smile sadly, "No, probably not."

"It was probably 'miren', you could say. Lingering attachment. Funny though, I insulted Ken with it a long time ago, if I remember right."

"Well, what else could it be?"

"Ah, now that you think about it, yeah. But there was something more, you know? That shop had been something that the four of us had together. I should feel jealous that you and Ken were on a team in another place just like it."

"Well, are you?"

"Not really. It was something -" Yohji gestured helplessly at the barren landscape, "well, I'll say this once, - don't kill me! That I might have loved that time more than I thought I did." He stopped walking and closed his eyes.

Aya stopped walking. "Is this that part that is something more than 'miren', Yohji?"

Yohji opened his eyes and grinned, "That sounded a little off, I suppose. I liked it, that we were all there, Ken and Omi and you. " He gave off a little laugh, "I might have possibly loved you a little as well."

Aya barely choked out a reply in time, "What?"

"Oh, hey, take it easy. It's nothing big, really. " Yohji awkwardly scratched his cheek with a finger, "Loved - maybe not 'that way' entirely, but not all platonic, as well." He shrugged, then turned and continued walking. Aya stood rooted there for a moment, then rushed up to catch him.

"Why would you say something like that?" Aya burst out, while trying to keep up with Yohji's now-brisk pace.

"Well, you asked me earlier, what the hell was I doing here, in your afterlife. I just died, Aya, and the first thing I thought of doing, as soon as I remembered everything, was to look for you."

"Oh." said Aya, upon catching the right tempo, kept on striding next to Yohji, his eyes watching the pattern of the sand thrown up by their shoes while he searched for something to say. "This 'love', Yohji, was it something vague and unsettling and familiar enough that you kept around us for as long as you could? Before giving up, I mean. Before you lost your memories."

"Yeah."

Aya shoved his own hands into his pockets, contemplating. "It might not have been one-sided either."

Yohji smiled, so much so that his eyes briefly closed, "I figured that."

"Why would you think so?" Aya grated a little, wondering where he'd let that out.

"You waited this long. It might have been for me, or for someone else. But when I came here, it felt as if you were doing your side of the promise."

Aya sniffed. "Bastard, when that burning building came down, I waited until sunrise to get you out."

"I wish you had waited until I woke up."

"The doctors already told me, you'd be someone else when you wake up. Plus, you know I hate waiting around for comatose people. I had to get out."

"Ah. But if you had been the one who came to collect... Shion, your sword, maybe things might have been different. If only I had met my friend named Aya then. What do you think?"

Aya looked up, and realized that the patch of verdant green had come close enough for him to see the sparkle of water. "Yohji, were we all just a series of missed encounters in the end?"

Yohji fell silent after a while. "Who knows. Maybe it was the best way it could go. What we do from here is also ours to decide, Aya."

Aya frowned and looked at him, "You mean..."

Yohji grinned, the light of a new idea dancing around in his eyes, "I say we wait for Ken and Omi and have a little grand reunion. I know Ken will find us. He found you. He found me when I was doing my damned best not to be found. And the chibi, for sure, he wouldn't want to be Mamoru Takatori when he's dead. He'll be Omi, I know it, and he'll find us. He's our Omi."

"How do you propose to do that?" Aya cocked his head to the side.

"I say we open a flower shop. Right here."

"Hn."

"Don't look at me like that! I say we get rid of all that unsavory stuff and get the good parts right."

"You really think they'll come? Then what?"

"Then I say we get down to business and find a way to get reincarnated! I've been thinking about it when I was watching you in your hibernation mode earlier. Maybe we can get a better go this time, if we ..."

* * *

The two figures walking in the sand kept on talking, and after a while, the redhead laughed. In a land without midnight.


End file.
